


Sacrificial Lambs

by faithfulpenelope



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Chekov, HQ is a bunch of douchebags, M/M, Minor Violence, Tarsus IV, trade routes and hostages and negotiations oh my
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 15:17:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6200239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithfulpenelope/pseuds/faithfulpenelope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They knew the natives might be hostile.</p>
<p>Starfleet sends Kirk to negotiate with an inhospitable planet without any real intelligence and no back-up, and Kirk's not sure everyone's going to make it back whole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrificial Lambs

They knew the natives might be hostile.

Starfleet intelligence had told them that much, that the peoples of Fasti V were highly militarized and hierarchical, not unlike the Klingons, and did not take well to outsiders. They weren’t primitive – they had made some small forays into space, and had taken to terrorizing some of their smaller neighbors – but they showed no great interest in furthering their society or the goals of the Federation, something that should have eliminated them from consideration for inclusion. It’s a point Spock brings up very early in their briefing.

“That’s what I said. But take a look at the map,” Kirk replies, and brings up the stellar cartography file included in Starfleet’s report. The map hovers in mid-air, Fasti V bright blue in the center.

Chekov spots it almost immediately. “Fasti V sits right in the middle of the Federation’s new trade route!”

Kirk nods. “And thus just became the most valuable planet in the sector. Which is why HQ is sending us in to negotiate.”

“Negotiate? Negotiate what? We’ll give you the warp capabilities to attack bigger and farther planets if you let us scoot by unharmed?” McCoy argues. “Everything we know about them says they live by war, Jim. And we’re going to help them?”

“The doctor makes a valid point,” Spock says, and McCoy glares, mostly out of force of habit. “Despite their fortuitous location, they would seem wholly unsuited for inclusion in the Federation.”

“You think I didn’t argue that point? Trust me, I spend hours working my way through the ranks, trying to find a sympathetic ear on this. All the admiralty can see right now is their damned trade route.” Kirk sighs. “We’re here. We have our orders. The least we can do try and limit the damage as much as possible.”

Spock nods in concession. Bones looks as if he might argue, but cuts it off after a pointed look from Kirk. “Fine,” he huffs. “How is this going to work?”

“We’ll have to take a shuttle down. Apparently, there’s something in the stone of their ceremonial buildings that interferes with the transporters. Sulu, you’ll pilot. Uhura, I’ll need you with me to help translate. And Mr. Chekov?”

Chekov looks up in surprise. “Sir?”

“We’re gonna be mapping this route out pretty tightly. I’m going to need your navigation skills. You up for it?”

“Yes, sir,” Chekov answers immediately, before his eyes flicker, for just a moment, to Sulu. The pilot’s jaw is clenched hard, and when he turns to Kirk his voice is tight.

“Security?”

“We’ll have a team with us, but this is still a negotiation. We can’t go in there armed to the teeth.”

“That somehow doesn’t seem fair,” Uhuru says.

“Negotiations rarely are,” Kirk observes sagely, hand to his chest like a 23rd century Napoleon, and McCoy rolls his eyes. “Now let’s get this thing over with.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They knew the natives might be hostile, but they did not expect them to be this hostile, this soon. The shuttlecraft door is barely open when they are being ambushed. There’s way too many of them, and Kirk barely has time to call to the Enterprise before he’s being slammed to the ground.

“What is the meaning of this –“ he starts to yell, and gets a kick to the head for his trouble. Kirk feels something in his face crack, and the sky goes hazy for a minute, then dark and he falls unconscious.

When he wakes up, it’s to gentle fingers probing his face.

“Bones?” he mumbles. 

"No, it’s Nyota,” comes the response, and Kirk opens his eyes in surprise. Uhura looks down at him, her usually passive face concerned, Chekov leaning over her shoulder. “They cracked your orbital bone but their doctor came in to fix it. How do you feel?”

“Like I got stomped,” he replies, and struggles to sit up. The room around them is bare but livable, built like a barrack. Kirk sees his security team standing watch by the door. “What happened?”

“We got our first introduction to Fastian diplomacy,” Uhura says dryly. “It is apparently their custom to attack first and take a hostage until negotiations are completed. Something that would have been helpful to know ahead of time.”

“Hostage -” Kirk whips his head around, does a survey of the room. “Sulu?”

Uhura nods. “From what I could gather, they never take the lead negotiator – you in this case – but the Fastian guard saw his katana and took him to be someone important, so they grabbed him.”

Kirk curses under his breath. “How do we get him back?”

“We don’t, not until negotiations are done.”

“The Enterprise? Can we talk to her?”

“Limited contact only,” Chekov says. “They’ve given us a short window. That’s why we were trying to wake you.”

“Help me up,” he says, and they each grab an arm. He turns to his security team. “You guys all right?” “

Yes, sir.” Hendorff’s got a black eye and Griffith’s moving a little stiffy, but they seem otherwise unharmed.

“Good.” He turns back to Uhura. “How do we get the Enterprise?”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chekov’s telling the truth, they only get ten minutes to call home. Spock speaks quickly, advising that the Fastians have alerted the Enterprise to their actions, and that in keeping with their traditions, the away team should not leave the planet until negotiations are over.

“What about Sulu? Did you see him?”

“We did,” Spock confirms. “He appears largely unharmed, and we can track his life signs. However, he will not be released until an agreement is reached.”

“And what does Starfleet has to say about this?”

If Vulcans sighed, Spock would have sighed. “They said while this is an unfortunate turn of events, the larger circumstances require us to continue on our mission until such time as a resolution is reached or until the Fastians take…further action against Lieutenant Sulu or the away team.”

“So basically, we take what they give us until we figure it out or they kill one of us?”

“I argued that it was an unacceptable situation but I am afraid I failed to persuade them otherwise. I am sorry.”

Spock won’t sigh so Kirk sighs instead. “It’s not your fault, Spock. I’m afraid there isn’t much that’s going to keep Starfleet from forging ahead with this. But keep at them anyway.” He pauses. “Everything else okay up there?”

“The Enterprise continues to function adequately,” Spock replies, “except for the fact that Dr. McCoy continually threatens to contact Starfleet and tell them – I believe the exactly phrase is – “take this God-damned trade route and shove it where the sun don’t shine”. He also may have questioned the legitimacy of quite a few of the admiralty’s births.”

Kirk chuckles. “So, basically, things are normal.”

“Yes, sir.”

The screen beeps a warning. “Spock, we’re gonna get caught off. Send us anything you can. And keep on HQ.”

“Yes, sir. We will continue to monitor your situation.”

The screen beeps again and goes black. “Shit.” Kirk rubs his achy cheek. “Okay. Negotiations are still due to start tomorrow?”

Uhura nods. “Maybe it’s best if you try to rest, Captain.”

Kirk stands and sways a little. “Probably not a bad idea, Lieutenant. For any of us. Hendorff, you’ll take first shift watch. 4 hours and Griffith will take over, then I’ll get up.” The group breaks. “Ensign, a word.”

Chekov turns back. “Captain?”

Kirk pulls him to the side, away from security detail. “Ensign, you okay?”

“Fine, sir. They did not hurt me.”

“That’s not what I mean. With Lieutenant Sulu.”

There’s a split second of pure misery on his face before he can help it. Then he straightens his shoulders and sets his face it in an impassive mask. “My personal feelings will not interfere with my abilities, sir.”

“I know they won’t,” Kirk assures. “It doesn’t mean you don’t feel them.”

“I - ” His shoulders sag back, and he looks down to the ground. “I am worried, yes. About Hikaru.”

“We’ll get him back.”

“Yes, I know,” Chekov says quickly, too quickly, as if he’s trying to convince himself. “I know. I just...”

“You want him back now,” Kirk supplies, and Chekov looks up, surprised. Kirk thinks he looks tired and sad and impossibly young and he has to resist the urge to pat Pavel on the head.

“Yes, sir.”

Kirk smiles, a little sadly himself, and clasps Chekov’s shoulder. “I understand, Pavel. Trust me, I understand.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The negotiations almost end before they begin, when they walk into the Great Hall and the Fastian leader laughs at them and sneers, “you have brought a female and a child to talk to us. If you were not serious, you should have stayed on your ship,” and Kirk has to remind himself they are holding one of his own to keep himself from doing something stupid.

"They are valued members of my crew,” Kirk spits back. “As is the officer who you took yesterday.”

The general shrugs. “If your Federation was not so…submissive they would do the same thing. Your officer will be fine as long as you succeed. If not, we will kill him.”

There’s a sharp exhalation of breath from behind him and Kirk prays he hasn’t made the wrong call by allowing Chekov to remain with the mission. He hears Uhura murmur something quietly in Russian, and Chekov’s low, quiet, “da”. “So.” The general stands. “Shall we begin?”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It’s hell. The Fastians don’t follow the usual rules, and Kirk has to throw out his training and learn on the fly, knowing every mistake he makes along the way might lead to Sulu’s death. The meetings are less negotiations than pissing matches and Kirk must pinch himself to keep from reacting to the constant insults and threats. They won’t speak to anyone but him, and by the time they stumble back to their barracks every night, bone tired, his thighs are covered in red marks and his throat is sore.

He updates Spock, and lets him talk to Uhura for a minute before she calls him back over. When he sees it’s not Spock but Bones on the screen, he lets out a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding. God, but he looks good.

“How you doin’, Jim?” Bones asks, his voice lacking its usual edge.

Kirk looks around, sees that Uhura has ushered Chekov to the other side of the room and the security team is talking amongst themselves. “Exhausted,” he admits quietly. “Bones, I really don’t know what I’m doing here.” It’s terrifying to admit, and he knows he could only ever say it to Bones, who just nods.

“I know, Jim. But you’re doing good. You’re doing everything you can in this shit situation.” Bones huffs. “The admiralty has no idea what’s coming for them once we get you off that god-forsaken rock.”

Kirk laughs. “I hear you’ve been telling the whole ship.”

“Yeah, well. They can’t just go around putting people in danger like this.” He pauses. “Especially not you.”

Jim’s stomach flips a little, and he smiles. “You just want me around to keep you from boredom.”

Bones scoffs. “You keep telling yourself that. I could do with a little boredom.” He leans in a little. “How’s our resident genius ensign doing?”

Kirk glances over to Uhura and Chekov. The ensign is listening intently, focused, but his eyes are dull. “That kid is strong, Bones, far stronger than I could have expected. When he’s in there, there’s nothing that can shake his focus. Sometimes I forgot how much he’s hurting until we lay down at night. I’m in the bed next to him and hear him tossing and turning, whispering to himself in Russian.”

“Well, we both know what that’s like,” Bones says, weary, and Jim gives him a sad smile. Then the screen beeps its warning, and Jim sighs.

“I’m gonna be home soon,” he whispers.

“I know you will. All of you will.” There’s no hesitation in that deep voice. “I’ll keep the bed warm until then.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It’s the middle of the night. Chekov should be asleep, but he’s not. He can’t be. Not when Hikaru is not safe.

He feels the tears start to form. _Stop it_ , he tells himself sternly. _Crying will not help Hikaru_.

It’s become a bit of a ritual for him each night, lying awake, listening to the rest of the team sleep and trying not to cry like a child. His head pounds, his chest aches, he can’t breathe. Not as his brain taunts him with what might happen.

He shifts around to his side, pulls up the covers a little tighter. He’s so cold. It’s a new and unwelcome sensation. Hikaru is always telling him he’s like a little furnace, his very own human water bottle. When he’s cold, he wraps around Chekov, buries his nose in Pavel’s neck, and Pavel pulls him closer, thinks he would share all his heat, all his everything, to keep Hikaru warm and happy.

He can’t help the soft sob that escapes at the memory. The sound seems to echo across the dark room.

“Stop it, Pavel,” he hisses at himself in his native language. “Do not be a child.” If Kirk hears him, he will send him back the ship, and he will be completely useless to Hikaru. And if something should go wrong because he was unable to fulfill his duty… Pavel shakes his head against his pillow, doesn’t not allow himself to even consider it. No, he will rest, and be ready in the morning to map a route across this awful system, for trade ships and Fastian battle cruisers and Federation missions.

To map a route home for Hikaru.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It’s takes a few more days and untold threats, but they reach a deal. Kirk’s done the best he can to mitigate the damage the Fastians will be able to do but he still feels sick when the admirals actually agree to what he presents, feels even worse that they seem happy about it. He’s weak from stress, and he’s tired, and he’s pretty sure his face wasn’t set right, and it’s only the thought of getting Sulu back and heading home to the Enterprise, to Bones, that keeps his breakfast in his stomach. He watches as they set their seal to the document, making sure it’s finished, before demanding, “My crew member. You will return him.”

The Fastian general stands. “You will get your crew member back, Captain. There is just one more matter to deal with.”

Kirk can’t control himself, and his fury boils over. “No, goddamn it, there isn’t. We are done. The treaty is done. You will give us back Lieutenant Sulu and you will give him back _now_.”

The general signals to one of his guards, and a door opens to reveal two more guards and Hikaru Sulu, looking tired and dirty but generally sound. He’s gagged and his wrists are bound but he lights up when he sees his crew mates, sees Pavel, and Kirk hears Chekov’s soft exclamation when he sees Sulu is unharmed. Then the guards force Sulu to his knees and Kirk has to hold himself back, hold Chekov back from rushing forward.

“What are you doing,” he spits out.

“Fastian tradition dictates,” the general begins, and Kirk realizes if he never hears the words _Fastian tradition_ again, it will be too soon, “that you prove your loyalty to us, to show that you will be faithful partners to the Fastian people.”

“We have showed ourselves loyal,” Kirk protests. “We signed the treaty. We agreed to your demands.”

The general waves Kirk’s protests away, as if the past weeks have been nothing. “It is easy to sign your name to an agreement, Captain. It is another to offer yourself.”

There’s that feeling again, like he’s going to vomit all over the floor, and Kirk has to swallow heavy to keep down the bile creeping up his throat. “What does that mean?”

The general smiles, a slow, creeping thing, before snapping his fingers. A guard steps forward and hands him something, long and black, and Kirk feels light-headed when he realizes what it is. A whip.

“It is your choice, who will serve as the representative,” the general says, and gestures towards a bar at the front of the raised platform where he and his fellow leaders sit. “10 lashes. If by the end you are still standing, I will return your crew member and we will more forward as partners. If not, he will be executed, and the treaty will be considered void.”

“You can’t do this,” Kirk demands. He’s sweating now, and it’s getting harder to focus, not when memories of another God-forsaken planet are threatening to rear up. “We’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

“Not everything, Captain,” the general says mildly, and Kirk hates him with every fiber of his being. “You have five minutes to decide.” He snaps his fingers again and another guard steps forward and pulls out a sword – not just a sword, a katana, _Hikaru’s katana_ – pressing it to Sulu’s throat. Sulu tenses against the cold metal and breathes heavy out his nose.

“Fuck,” Kirk curses under his breath, shakes his head. He has to get it together, get them out of this. He turns to his crew. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going up there.”

“Captain, no,” Uhuru objects. “You’re exhausted and weak from the stress.”

“It should be one of us,” Hendorff says, and if Kirk had the strength he would have laughed at how far they’ve come.

Griffith agrees. “We’re the security here, Captain. We should be the ones keeping you safe.”

“No,” Kirk says stubbornly, even as just the memory of the whip makes his knees feel weak. “I’m not sending someone else. It should be me.”

“Captain - ”

“I will do it.”

He says it so quietly that Kirk almost doesn’t hear him, thinks he might have hallucinated it. He turns to Chekov.

“I will do it,” Chekov repeats.

Kirk tries not to scoff. “No. Unacceptable. You’re the youngest and smallest one here. You’re not going up there.”

“I am,” Chekov counters. His voice is steady and his eyes are clear. “I can do it.”

“Ensign - ” Kirk grabs his arm. “Pavel, I understand what you’re trying to do, I really do. But I can’t let you do this. You don’t know -” He takes a deep breath. “You don’t know how painful it’s going to be.”

“The pain does not matter,” Chekov responds. “Not if it will bring Hikaru home.”

“Pavel -”

“Captain, have I failed you yet? This whole mission, all my time on the Enterprise? Have I ever failed you?”

Kirk remembers hitting the transported pad, Sulu by his side. He remembers Chekov reaching out to catch him and Scotty as the Enterprise wheeled through space. “No,” he admits. “Never.”

“Then let me do this,” Chekov pleads.

Kirk shakes his head. “Ensign. No.”

“Captain, what if it was Doctor McCoy?”

Kirk’s voice takes a sharp tone. “That’s not fair, Pavel.”

“It is. It is the same. You would do anything for him. You came back from the dead because he asked you to.” Chekov’s voice is pleading but strong. “Let me do the same for Hikaru.”

Kirk can’t believe he’s considering it, sending Chekov out there. “The pain will be unbelievable, Pavel. And you’ll have to stay standing, stay still, knowing it’s coming. There will be no asking for mercy.”

Chekov sucks in a deep breath, swallows hard, but doesn’t give an inch. “I can survive anything, if it means Hikaru will be safe,” he says, and damned if Kirk doesn’t believe him. He remembers his conversation with McCoy – _that kid is strong, Bones, far stronger than I could have expected_ – and breathes out.

Gives the slightest nod.

Prays to the universe that he’s not wrong, knowing that if he is, he’s just ended two lives.

Chekov nods back, looking strangely grateful, and turns to the Fastian general. “I will do it,” he says, and the Fastian general laughs at him outright.

“You send the child, Captain?” he shouts. “What kind of Federation do you belong to, that would send its weakest member to suffer the lash?”

Kirk steps forward, ready to respond, but Chekov doesn’t hesitate. “I am not a child,” he fights back, “I am Ensign Pavel Andreievich Chekov, and I stand before you, ready to satisfy your tradition.”

The general tilts his head and looks slightly impressed. “Very well then, little Chekov. I accept you as volunteer.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chekov doesn’t remember it all, what happens next.

He remembers stepping up to the platform. The bar is cold beneath his hands. He looks toward Sulu, sword to his throat, and sees he is afraid for Pavel, afraid for himself. It should frightened Pavel but it steels him instead, because this is what it will take to move that katana, to take the fear from Hikaru’s eyes.

He remembers the general speaking, though what he cannot say, and Kirk answering back angrily. He hears footsteps, the general coming closer, and from the corner of his eye the whip waves.

He remembers the pain. It is unholy and unforgiving and Pavel knows from the first second the whip hits his back he will remember it for the rest of his life. He cannot help it, he cries out, but his fingers clench tight and his knees do not give. Then it comes again and again and Chekov understands now why people would believe in a God and heaven and hell if there’s a chance it could mean an end to pain. He tries to distract himself, solves for the most difficult theorems he can think of, recites the rulers of Russia back to the earliest Romanovs. When that doesn’t work and he feels his knees begin to give, he forces himself to think of Hikaru dying, blood draining from his slit throat, eyes pleading with Pavel, asking why he’s failed, and his fingers tighten back around the bar and his knees lock.

He remembers the whip stilling, coming to lay against the ground, leaving trails of blood, his blood, next to it. There’s shouting and movement but Pavel doesn’t move, doesn’t unlock his fingers, not until Uhura’s soft hands are on his and Sulu’s warm body is pressed up close, his face wet with tears. Only then does Pavel let go and allow himself to collapse into his beloved’s arms, and he weeps because the perfect feeling of Hikaru beside him is all he remembers it to be.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

McCoy’s in his office when he gets the call that the shuttle is returning and urgent medical care is needed. He races through the halls to Shuttle Bay 3, his team at his heels, and prays his familiar refrain, that whatever Jim’s gotten himself into this time, he can fix it. Then the shuttle door opens and Kirk is standing there, tired and drawn but unhurt.

“Not me,” he says immediately and McCoy can’t help but feels the relief in his bones. “Chekov.”

McCoy grabs Kirk’s arm, squeezes, then shoves past him to the ensign. Chekov’s on his stomach, his breathing shallow and weak, his skin pasty. And his back – his back is covered in deep, bloody lacerations, shreds of his torn shirt embedded in the ripped skin. McCoy prides himself on his professionalism, on his cool, but even he can’t stop the gasp that comes out as he looks at Kirk for an explanation.

“They whipped him,” Kirk confirms, and Bones can see that Jim’s heart is broken at the thought of it.

He doesn’t ask any more questions, doesn’t have time for it, just focuses on Chekov. The lacerations are deep but not life-threatening, although McCoy can’t begin to imagine the kind of pain he’s in. “Ensign,” he says, bending low. “Pavel, it’s Dr. McCoy. Can you understand me?” Chekov’s eyes flutter, and he nods just slightly. “We’re going to get you to the Medbay. You’re going to be fine,” Bones tells him, and waves his team in. It’s then he notices that Sulu is kneeling next to him. “He’s going to be fine,” Bones repeats.

Sulu nods tightly and McCoy watches as the fear in his eyes bleeds away and is replaced by a fury he’s never seen from the quiet pilot. “He let him go,” Sulu whispers quietly, and Bones is about to ask _who let him go_ when Sulu rounds up and lunges at Kirk. “You let him go up there,” he screams, swinging wildly before Hendorff is able to haul him off the captain. Sulu kicks, catching McCoy in the arm as he tries to right himself, and McCoy swears. “You let them hurt him!”

“Sulu, listen to me,” Kirk pleads. “You think I wanted him to go up there?”

“They hurt him,” Sulu hollers, and Hendorff lets out an _oof_ as Sulu forces them back into a wall and tries to pull away. “They hurt him and you let them.”

McCoy waits for Kirk to react but Jim just stands there, stricken, so he steps in. “Calm down, Lieutenant,” he orders but Sulu ignores him.

“It should have been you,” Sulu cries, and Jim flinches but doesn’t fight back. McCoy decides he’s seen enough and sinks a hypo of sedative into Sulu’s neck. “It should have been you, or me, or anyone else. Anyone but Pavel.” Sulu sinks in Hendorff’s arms as the sedative takes hold.

“Anyone but Pavel.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

McCoy manages to get them all to the Medbay, tells Jim to wait on his usual biobed, and follows Chekov around to the dermal regenerator. He watches for a few minutes as his nurses clean the wounds, picking bits of fiber and material from the gashes, and when he is satisfied Chekov will be all right he goes to check on his other patients. Sulu is still out – McCoy has given him enough sedative for a few hours, but he senses it’ll be longer as his body tries to catch up on lost sleep – and Uhuru and Griffiths check out fine. Hendorff’s got a black eye and a nasty gash to the back of his head, and McCoy takes the opportunity to get the whole story as he patches the lieutenant up. Then he goes looking for Kirk.

The biobed is, not surprisingly, empty.

“I checked him out,” Chapel tells him. “Physically, he was fine, and he insisted on leaving.”

“Of course he did,” McCoy sighs and comms the bridge.

“Spock here.”

McCoy looks at the panel in surprise. “I – Jim’s not on the bridge?”

“No, Doctor. The captain has not yet come to the bridge.”

That worries McCoy almost more than anything. “Computer, find Captain Kirk.”

“Captain Kirk is in his quarters,” the computer chirps.

McCoy makes sure everything’s quiet, and tells Chapel to call him if either Sulu or Chekov wake, then takes off for the captain’s quarters. He lets himself in.

“Jim?”

“Leave me alone, Bones.”

McCoy scoffs and walks into the bedroom. It takes him a minute to see Jim on the floor at the end of the bed, knees tucked up against his chest. “What are you doing, Jim?” 

"Chapel checked me out,” Jim answers. “She said I could go.”

“That’s not what I asked.” He sits down next to Jim. “What happened down there, Jim?”

“I let him go,” Jim says quietly. “I let him go up there knowing they would hurt him.”

McCoy sighs. “Jim, he volunteered. And in case you missed it, he did it. You were right, that kid is stronger than any of us could have guessed.”

“Sulu was right. I shouldn’t have let him. I shouldn’t have let him experience that. Not when I knew…” His voice trails off and he buries his face in his knees. “Not when I knew what it would feel like.”

“Jim?” McCoy can’t believe what he’s hearing. Then it dawns on him. “Tarsus?” he asks quietly, and when that blond head nods yes, McCoy’s heart breaks all over again, just as it did on that night at the Academy when he first learned the truth. There had been a rumor, an unsubstantiated report that one of the leaders of the genocide had survived and they would reopen the files, and it had spread across campus like wildfire. When Jim had heard his face had gone blank and somehow McCoy had known to get him home before he fell apart. It was only much later, after a bottle of Bones’s best bourbon, that Kirk had admitted in the dark the bare details: that he had been there, had almost starved to death, but had recovered enough to testify against Kodos, and that Starfleet had sealed the files and changed his health record to cover up their incompetence.

“Damn it, Jim,” Bones whispers, and pulls his shaking lover into his lap. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m so sorry.”

“How could I have done that,” Jim cries. “And to Pavel, of all of us.”

“Jim, you have to stop,” Bones says firmly, pulling him in closer. “You did what you had to do.”

“I was scared to go up there. I was selfish.”

“No.” McCoy yanks Jim up, forces him to look at him. “James Kirk, you may be a lot of things but selfish is not one of them. You would have stepped up there in a heartbeat to save any member of your crew. Chekov volunteered to save the man he loved, and he did it, he saved him.”

Jim’s eyes drift shut for a second, then he looks back at Bones. “He asked what I would do if it were you with a sword to your throat,” he says and strokes McCoy’s face. Bones leans into the touch. “That’s why I let him go. Because I would volunteer myself every time for you, and God help it all if anyone tried to get in my way.”

Bones kisses him, finally, and Jim kisses back with all the strength he has, his arm coming to wrap around McCoy’s neck. “Just like I would for you,” he whispers, and Jim nods, because he knows it’s true. He tucks his head against McCoy’s shoulder, his energy reserves finally depleted.

“So tired, Bones,” he murmurs.

“I know, darlin’.” He hauls them both up on to the bed, doesn’t even bother to take off their boots, just pulls the covers up tight.

They lay there for a long moment, before Jim speaks. “I can’t sleep,” he admits, the shame loud in the dark. “If I do, the nightmares will come.”

“Oh, Jim.” Bones presses a soft kiss into Jim’s brow, his heart aching because Jim is hurting and he can’t heal him. “Then we’ll just lay here together.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They’re still laying there hours later, when M’Benga calls to tell them Sulu has woken up.

When they reach the Medbay, the lieutenant is sitting up, talking to Uhura. She sees McCoy and Kirk coming and says something to Sulu and kisses his cheek, then takes her leave. As they pass she smiles, and squeezes Kirk’s hand. Jim smiles back, grateful.

“How are you feeling, Lieutenant?” 

"Fine, Doctor.” Sulu looks past McCoy to the captain. “Captain. I need to apologize. I should not have said what I said.”

“It’s fine,” Kirk waves him off, but Sulu shakes his head.

“It’s not fine. You’re my commanding officer and my friend and I should not have reacted like that.”

Kirk claps Sulu on the shoulder. “Apology accepted, Hikaru. Trust me, if anyone can understand the emotions of the situation, it’s me.”

“Thank you, Jim.” Sulu sighs. “Uhura told me what Pavel said. I think if you hadn’t said yes he would have stormed his way up there.”

“I think you might be right,” Kirk agrees. “Still, I want you to know. It wasn’t a decision I made lightly. It still isn’t. The thought that Pavel’s going to have to live with this…” He trails off and looks over at McCoy, then back at Sulu. “I’m just grateful he has you to help him through it.”

Sulu nods. “He does. I will.” He turns to McCoy. “I want to see him.”

McCoy shakes his head. “He’s still under sedation in the dermal regenerator.”

“I don’t care. Please,” Sulu pleads. “I just need to see him.”

Bones glances at Jim, who looks just as eager to check on the ensign.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

The small room off the main bay is quiet but for the hum of the regenerator. All that’s visible is Chekov’s head; the nurses have washed the blood from his hair and his face is relaxed under the medication. McCoy checks his progress, then steps aside to let Sulu look.

Sulu knows he shouldn’t but he has to touch him, make sure he’s really there, so he reaches out and strokes Pavel’s cheek as softly as he can. “Hey, Pasha,” he whispers, not really sure if Chekov can hear him but wanting to say it all the same. “I know you need to rest but I just wanted you to know I’ll be here when you wake up. I missed you so much in that cell. I was so worried about you, and I was cold all the time without my personal heater.” He runs his hand through Chekov’s soft curls, pushing them up off his forehead. “I knew you would come for me somehow. I just never imagined…” He looks away and blinks to clear the tears from his eyes. “I love you so much, Pasha, so much, and I just need you to come back to me, okay?”

The monitor beeps, and Sulu yanks his hand away in a panic, worried he has hurt Pavel somehow.

McCoy hit the screen. “It’s okay,” he reassures. “The medication is wearing off. He might wake up a little bit. Keep talking to him.”

“Pasha?” Sulu bends down close to Chekov’s face and takes his hand. “Pasha, can you hear me?”

Chekov’s eyelids flutter and he groans. His eyes open slowly, painfully.

“Hikaru?” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“Yeah, Pasha, it’s me,” Sulu says, a soft laugh of joy bubbling out. “I’m here, baby.”

Chekov mutters something in Russian, and Sulu has to think back to their informal lessons. “Safe? Am I safe, that’s what you’re asking?” Chekov nods. “Yes, Pasha, I’m safe, we all are, because of you.” Chekov’s eyes flutter back shut and he breathes out in relief. He says something else, but all Sulu understands is Kirk.

“Captain Kirk? You want to talk to him?” Chekov nods, and Sulu steps aside so that Jim can step forward.

“Hey there, kid,” he says softly.

Chekov’s Russian is soft and mumbled and Sulu struggles to translate. “He’s asking if you understood – maybe knew something?” Sulu sighs. “I’m sorry, Pasha. I don’t know what you’re saying.” Chekov pats his hand.

“I am asking…you knew what it would feel like? The…the…” He huffs and waves his fingers in a sweeping motion.

“The whip?” Jim asks, and Chekov nods. Jim’s heart sinks as the guilt comes crashing down and he sways slightly. McCoy reaches out, places his hand on Jim’s back to steady him, keep him centered. “Yes,” Jim says, voice cracking. He’s ashamed. “I knew.”

Chekov’s eyes close for a moment, then he looks back up at Kirk. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” He looks at McCoy and Sulu, sure he’s misunderstood, but their faces tell him he hasn’t. “Why would you thank me?”

“Because,” Chekov says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “You trusted me. You let me save my Hikaru.”

“God,  _Pasha_ ,” Sulu sobs, and buries his face in Chekov’s hair. Kirk doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to do, so he just leans back into McCoy and exhales an uneven breath. He can feel McCoy’s heart beating fast against his back, and he takes his hand and squeezes, hard. Chekov’s fingers wrap tighter around Sulu’s.

“Ssh, Hikaru, _moya lyubov'_ ,” he whispers. “Don’t cry, my love.” He reaches for Sulu but the movement pulls the skin on his back, and he winces.

McCoy releases Kirk and steps around to gently push Chekov’s hand down. “Keep that arm still,” McCoy says, gently. “The last thing you need is to be moving around. This has already been a little too much excitement for you right now.” He punches a command into the monitor and the machine hisses. “That’s your next round of pain killers and a sedative you’re feeling. It’s time for you to sleep.”

“Can I stay?” Sulu asks. “Please. I won’t disturb him, I promise.”

“ _Da, pozhaluysta_ , Doctor,” Chekov asks, his voice already fading under the effects of the medication. “Please.”

“You stay on the promise that you rest,” McCoy compromises, and Sulu nods, grateful.

McCoy gives his orders to the night nurse and extracts another promise from Sulu that he’ll rest (“if you don’t rest or you wake him up, I will hypo you right back to unconsciousness,” he threatens, to which Sulu looks guilty at Jim) before he and Jim leave. They’re almost to McCoy’s quarters – the captain’s quarters are just too far away – when Bones notices Jim’s funny little smile. “What?”

Jim’s lip quirks as he follows McCoy into the dark room. “You’re getting soft in your old age, Bones.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

“Back there, when Sulu asked to stay. You didn’t even pretend you were gonna kick him out. You turning into a big old teddy bear on me?”

“You don’t stop with the sassin’ and I’m gonna maul you like an angry bear,” McCoy gripes, but even he can’t make it sound threatening, and Jim just laughs. Bones smiles, pulls Jim in close and holds him tight. “Ah, I couldn’t send him home. Been in that same spot way too often to do that to him.”

Kirk hums his understanding and presses into Bones until he feels like he could melt right into him. He tucks his face against McCoy’s jaw line and Bones’s arms pull tighter around his back, and damned if it doesn’t feel like heaven.

“I missed you,” he whispers in McCoy’s neck, and he still can’t believe that it could feel this good to be so vulnerable with another human being.

“Missed you too, darlin’,” Bones whispers back.

McCoy’s voice uncurls something Jim and he pulls back just enough to kiss Bones, his exhaustion giving way to a need to reconnect with Bones, to feel his bare skin against his. McCoy licks at his lips and Kirk opens up for him, groaning at the sensation. He’s dizzy, feels out of control, desperate and he breaks away the kiss. “Please, Bones,” he gasps, and Bones cups his jaw, his thumb stroking his re-healed cheek.

“I’ve got you, darlin’,” Bones murmurs. “I’m here, let me take care of you.” He pulls Jim to the bed and lays him down, undresses him, makes love to him so slowly and sweetly that when Jim finally comes it’s with Bones’s name on his lips and tears in his eyes. Bones presses kisses to his eyelids, his cheek bones, and croons soft nonsense in Jim’s ear as he calms. Jim feels the exhaustion returning, pulling him under, so he tugs Bones down close.  Bones settles on his side, arm wrapped possessively around Jim’s stomach.

“Bones,” he murmurs. McCoy gives a soft grunt and snuggles in tighter. “I love you.”

He feels the soft smile against his neck. “Love you, darlin’. Now sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.”

And Jim does.


End file.
